


i'll see you next lifetime

by eg1701



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, HIV/AIDS, Kinda not, M/M, Magnus Bane-centric, Reincarnation, Vampire Alec Lightwood, World War II, alec and his hazel eyes, i googled variations of the name alexander, it was wild, kinda based off the books/bane chronicles, mentions of period typical homophobia, sorta - Freeform, this is kinda sad, werewolf alec lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eg1701/pseuds/eg1701
Summary: In which Magnus keeps running into a boy with hazel eyes and black hair, but can't ever seem to make him stay.





	i'll see you next lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> this is (very, very) vaguely based on the book midwinterblood by marcus sedgwick which you should read because it's amazing.

The first time they meet, it’s the mid 1600s, and they’re both young adults, still too young to really understand the world. Magnus is still learning everything being a warlock entails. He’s powerful, he knows that much, but he isn’t sure the extent of his powers.  


There’s a mundane boy, Alejandro, that he met in the town center of Madrid, on a hot summer afternoon, by pure chance. The sun was beating down like mad, and everyone moved slowly, as if the heat made it too difficult to go very fast. Magnus however, was always on the move, and they’d practically run each other over. Magnus proceeded to fall immediately head over heels for the boy’s kind hazel eyes, and the way his hair didn’t appear to ever lay flat. He fell for the way he spoke so seriously, his ambitions, and for the loving way he spoke of his family. They spent many afternoons together, and when Magnus eventually showed off his magic, Alejandro was amazed at the way the blue sparks seemed to dance in the air. He didn’t recoil in horror, or call Magnus a monster. Few people did that, and Magnus chastised himself for being nervous around this boy in the first place.  
Magnus was thrilled of course. He made Alejandro promise to never share what he had been shown, and a few weeks, later, they kissed in secret, very late one night, and proceeded to never speak of it again. They both knew it wasn’t allowed and by the end of the next month, Alejandro and his family had moved away, to a place Magnus had never even heard of, and Magnus decided that was for the best. He could never be with a mundane forever, especially not a man, not with the world the way it was, and since Magnus would never age, and Alejandro would, it was much better this way.  


It’s the end a tumultuous period of revolutions by the time they meet again, this time, in France. Magnus had done his best to avoid the country, as it had been a bit dangerous there for a while, and though Magnus could just magick his way out of the situation, he found it easier to avoid such things all together.  
But things were settling down, and Paris was one of his favorite cities. He couldn’t stay away too long. He had taken to enjoying cafes late at night, and he was perfectly content to watch the people on the streets, and enjoy the night air.  
He didn’t think too much of Alejandro. They were practically children, now that he thought about it. Magnus had been foolish to let himself grow attached, and the man was dead by now anyway.   


But as he sat in that coffee shop, one fall evening, he was struck by those same hazel eyes. The hair was the same dark color, but the paleness, the unnatural paleness, told Magnus that his man wasn’t human. A vampire, Magnus thought to himself, not Alejandro, but a vampire nonetheless.  
Of course it wasn’t possible. Plenty of people had hazel eyes, but it was something about the way this man carried himself, something about his hair, or perhaps his light laughter that made Magnus almost spill his drink out of pure shock.  
This was not the same person. It was not possible and besides, they weren’t indentical. This man was leaner, and a bit taller. But Magnus was, for the first time in a long time, awestruck. He looked away quickly, so he wouldn’t be caught staring, and used a newspaper to hide himself until the man left, about twenty minutes later. He met a woman, who Magnus thought looked to much like him not to be related, and the two left arm in arm.  


Magnus lowered the newspaper shakily a moment too soon. Their eyes met, and the man smiled. It was a polite smile and Magnus could hardly see his fangs, but something in his eyes told Magnus he felt it too. That feeling of familiarity, that they’d met some lifetimes ago. Despite this man being a vampire, it was not Alejandro. He was already as old as Alejandro had been when they’d met, maybe a little younger. Even though Magnus understood that before, he had to admit, he was a little disappointed.  


A few months later, Magnus had left France, and some Shadowhunters had raided a vampire den after a string of attacks even though the group maintained their innocence until the very end. No one had survived. Magnus didn’t hear about it until he arrived in London.  


By the 1890s, Magnus had been with, and left Camille. He had loved her- at least he thought he had, so his heart was still aching a bit- and there was too much else to deal with to think about a strange occurance some ninety years before. He kept to the Downworld for the most part, preferring their company to most Shadowhunters, and often receiving disapproving looks from Mundanes. There would come a day when he would trust the Shadowhunters- well, he’d trust a select few- but if you had told him that then, he’d have laughed, and asked what you were drinking and where could he get some.  


In one of the bars, one late night, he was joined by a man, as there was no where else for him to sit.  
“I hope you don’t mind,” the man said, “It’s too loud over at the bar. Apparently the night children just had a success. I don’t want to hear about it.”  
“Of course I don’t mind,” Magnus said, and he was once again hit by that overwhelming sense of recognition, “You’re not a Mundane are you? I might mind then.”  
The man laughed out loud, “Not for a long time now. Werewolf.”  
“Ah,” was all Magnus could say.  
“Are you alright? You’re looking at me sort of strangely.”  
“Quite alright. You just look like someone I once knew. But he’d be dead by now.”  
“Is it odd I was thinking the same thing about you?”  


And somehow, they had ended up back at Magnus’s place, and by the time the morning rolled around, Magnus was alone in his bed. The sunlight streamed in and he hadn’t even learned the man’s name. He forgot how terrible it was to wake up alone.  
He hadn’t spent time asking around, to see who knew the mysterious wolf, and so he hadn’t heard about his death, a few months later. Perhaps it was better that way. Magnus always tried to forget the man as soon as he could, since it was too odd to consider.  


The 1920s were honestly, a bit of a blur for Magnus. Prohibition in America had only made people more likely to drink. The parties were big, and he did love a good party after all. New York City became the place to be, and he settled in Brooklyn, opened a speakeasy, and enjoyed his life. He hadn’t had a chance to enjoy life this much in a long time, maybe ever.  


Until those damn hazel eyes and that damn black hair wandered into his bar.  


It was a mundane, that much was clear. They didn’t get too many mundanes there, but enough to keep the supernatural activity quiet. If Magnus had to do one more spell to convince a mundane the vampire they had seen drinking blood, or the flash of a warlock mark was the result of drunkenness, and an overactive imagination, he was going to have to punish someone. Or perhaps start charging more for the drinks.  
The mundane looked out of place, and Magnus wondered if he had been upholding the prohibition laws. There was a first time for everything. Of course some people listened to the laws. They didn’t realize that it was a law that could hardly be upheld, and that it was unlikely he’d really get into trouble. Besides, Magnus could get rid of any problem with a snap of his fingers.  
“How can I help you?” Magnus asked, sliding into the seat next to him, “You look lost.”  
The boy flashed a nervous smile, “I was looking for my brother. He’s not supposed to be out, but he goes out anyway, only our parents get back into town tonight, and if he’s not home there’s going to be hell to pay.”  
Magnus nodded, “What does he look like?”  
“Blonde hair. Shorter than me. Probably flirting with a girl. Answers to Jonathan. Johnny if you want to start a fight with him.”  
“Afraid I haven’t seen anyone matching that description. Stay for a drink. Your brother will find his way home. How old is he?”  
“Seventeen.”  
“Then stay. For just a drink. You look like you could use one. Nervous thing aren’t you?”  
“Fine. Just one though. I suppose I’ll find him or I won’t. I’ve checked every bar I can find.”  
Magnus smiled, and signaled for the bartender he wanted two drinks.  
“What’s your name?” Magnus asked.  
“Al. Just Al.”  
“Just Al,” Magnus clinked their glasses together, “Welcome to the roaring twenties.”  


The boy called Al smiled, and Magnus couldn’t know that in 1942, he would be drafted into a mundane war, and dead six months later, shot somewhere in the Pacific. Magnus didn’t even have a last name, or he’d have offered some sort of anonymous sympathy.  
His brother, Jonathan, would name his first son Alexander in his honor.  


The 1980s were a whirlwind. That was the only world Magnus could find the describe them. On one hand, he could act like himself, out in the open, and the disapproving looks were significantly less than they used to be.  


On the other hand, some Shadowhunters had formed some group called the Circle, keen on taking out Downworlders. Magnus was used to being treated like dirt by the Clave, but this was murder. These people were actively trying to rid the world of Downworlders, ones who hadn’t ever done anything. Valentine Morgenstern was an evil man, and the Clave didn’t seem to be doing much about it. Magnus knew this was going to get better anytime soon.  
It made him a little sick to think about it.  
It was January of 1989 when he met Alex. He was a mundane, an activist for the gay community of New York, and he and Magnus both knew that he was dying. Magnus wanted to heal him. He explained in quiet tones, hand in hand that he could do it. Or he could at least try. Could keep Alex alive for a while. Alex had smiled. It was clear he didn’t really believe Magnus, but he was humoring him.  


“It’s alright that I’m going to die. I’ve made my peace with it. It’s alright Magnus.”  
Magnus hadn’t made his peace with it. Because Alex had hazel eyes and black hair, which Magnus hadn’t seen in a few decades. He was taken back to that kiss in Spain, to that cafe in Paris and to the boy searching for his brother in bars. Magnus would never make peace with mortality and immortality.  


But Alex got to make that choice and so they kissed on Magnus’s balcony, and they’d gotten drunk and spilled secrets. Magnus told him things he’d never shared and Magnus had spent a night sobbing when he’d found out about Alex’s death. It had hit him so hard, and even though they’d only known each other a few weeks, Magnus was sure they’d known each other for centuries, sure they’d always known each other.  


A week later, a Shadowhunter named Maryse Lightwood, a member of the Circle, found out that she and her husband were expecting their first child. He'd be born in September, and named Alexander. He'd call himself Alec, because his sister had trouble with the x in his name when she was little. Hardly anyone called him Alexander after that. Just Alec.  


It was 2016 when he saw the familiar face again. This time it belonged to a Shadowhunter who had just shot a Circle member in his club.  
“Who are you?” he had said, the question that had been on his mind for nearly four hundred years.  
“Alec,” he introduced himself later that night. Magnus noticed how flustered he got. He thought it was adorable, and he fell head over heels for those eyes all over again.  
There was no way Magnus was letting him get away this time, that much he knew for certain.  


He was right.


End file.
